“These heretic enclaves have become a major problem in the wake of the Empire’s fall. They claim to want to live peaceful lives, but their kin all too happily burned the galaxy mere months ago. Better to treat their ills with fire, I say.”

—General Tysus Dux of the Torigran Empire

It wasn’t long before Zaina and Xyrthe reached the ship, a twenty-foot tall glistening metal ovalloid laid lengthwise; it had a mag-ring around it to secure the twin engines on either side, which had been elongated to strengthen their thrust. Xyrthe’s ship was one of the few lancer ships with weapons—a multigun mounted above the cockpit. The ship, dubbed Duchess by Xyrthe, stood on three landing gears and was painted a muted pink.

Xyrthe pored over every crevice to ensure her baby had been well taken care of; the only thing Zaina’s mentor cared for more was her glyph, Chimara.

“Wow,” Xyrthe said. “Not a scratch.”

“That’s honestly surprising,” Zaina replied. After the chilly reception outside Bash Kaver, she expected some sort of foul play. “Maybe they knew they didn’t want to piss us off.”

“Well, they fucking failed at that, huh? Come on, let’s ditch these dickheads. Fuck those guys.”

Zaina followed Xyrthe up the retractable ramp and into the ship’s bowels. It was much more spacious than Gir’s ship, which Zaina had lived on for a week or so—the inside was dimly lit. One side of the cabin was lined with comfortable couches, and the other held storage and supplies. Not that comfortable seating set Zaina’s mind at ease—she was always keenly aware that they were in a metal box hurdling through space. Even minor problems could be catastrophic; she didn’t know how her mentor slept so soundly.

Xyrthe immediately stalked toward the cockpit to get the ship going; Zaina followed. Since her mentor wasn’t keen on showing her how to fly her baby, Zaina had taken to carefully watching whenever Xyrthe flew the ship.

This time Xyrthe didn’t bother with the controls herself; instead she brought Chimara online.

“Hello, Miss Xyrthe! How can I help you today?”

“Hello, Chimara. Would you terribly mind starting up the ship and getting us back to Kaado?”

“I can do that, Miss Xyrthe!”

“Thank you, Chimara. Now, I think I’m going to go take a nap. This mission was exhausting.”

“Ah! Before you do that, Miss Xyrthe, there is a comms request from the Order. It appears High Scholar Geli Fawndar wishes to speak with you two.”

Xyrthe groaned. “What do these assholes want now?”

Zaina shrugged.

“Fine,” Xyrthe said, her voice brimming with exasperation. “What’s the priority on it?”

“Urgent, Miss Xyrthe!”

“Thank you, Chimara.” Xyrthe turned to Zaina. “This is your fault, you know.”

“What? How the hell is any of this my fault?”

“They keep giving us missions because they know you’ll keep accepting them. And I keep getting dragged along.”

Zaina scoffed. “You accept them too! You could veto any mission at any time. Aren’t you supposed to be in charge?”

“Before you showed up they wouldn’t even approach me with something like this whole Bash Kaver fiasco—the past few months have felt like Bash Kaver after Bash Kaver.”

“Don’t tell me you’re homesick.”

“Yeah, I am,” Xyrthe replied. “I miss my bed. I miss my boyfriend. I miss my—”

“You have a boyfriend?”

Xyrthe seemed taken aback by the question. “Uh, yeah. What, do you find that hard to believe?”

“I mean, from a temperament standpoint? Yes. The guy must be a saint.”

A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

“You know what?” Xyrthe stood. “I bet whatever dumb bralshit the Order has to say will be much more interesting than this conversation.”

Without waiting for Zaina’s response, Xyrthe pivoted and marched out of the cockpit. Zaina took a deep breath to soothe her frustration and then followed her mentor. The incident at Bash Kaver was bad enough—Xyrthe being in a bad mood meant the rest of the day was going to be rough.

Xyrthe was sprawled out on one of the comfy chairs lining the far wall and staring at her vis-screen. She fiddled with the holo-interface for a few moments, and a large holo-screen projected from a circular metal base in the floor. The image was of High Scholar Geli Fawndar’s head and shoulders, reclined into her bed-pod.

“Xyrthe Belgrand and Zaina Quin,” she said, her voice dressed in ceremonial façade, “it is good to see you’ve made it through yet another mission unscathed.”

Xyrthe sighed. “Why do you label comms requests as urgent if you’re not going to get to the point?”

The High Scholar cleared her throat.”I see you’re in a good mood today. I do hope the people of Bash Kaver didn’t give you too much inconvenience.”

More like malice.

“They were complete assholes,” Xyrthe said. “I don’t think we’ll be welcome back.”

“I should think not,” Geli replied. “The Order of Riiva received a complaint the day you arrived about your—ahem—condition. They indicated that they could no longer trust the Order of Riiva to assist in their affairs.”

“No great loss,” said Xyrthe. “Fuck those guys.”

Geli nodded. “We can only help those who want to be helped. Which brings me to the point behind this comms request.”

Xyrthe sat up, still looking relaxed as could be, and said, “Finally. Mercifully.”

“We’ve received an interesting request from the world of Vyzria—specifically, the city of Deonago. We believe it is a challenge you two are specially equipped to handle, and what’s more, you were both requested by name.”

Xyrthe’s eyes narrowed in distrust. “This smells like a trap to me.”

Zaina wasn’t sure what she meant. “Huh?”

“If someone wants both of us anywhere, I can only assume they have bad intentions.”

“What a way to go through life,” Zaina muttered.

“Ahem,” Geli said. “We considered that, and while we think it unlikely, we are willing to send an additional lancer to assist you should the situation turn sour. Time is of the essence with this mission—all I ask is that you hear the details before making up your minds.”

Zaina nodded and gestured to Xyrthe, who loosed a heaving, defeated sigh.

“Fine. Let’s hear it.”

“Excellent. I think you’ll find this one most interesting. The client’s name is Rymar Benta, the current Strato of Deonago. Nearby is the Sivanya Enclave of heretics, and tensions have risen between the two as of late.”

Xyrthe’s eyebrow raised. “A heretic enclave?”

“That’s correct. The enclave is led by a woman named Sivanya—despite the near-open hostility, Rymar believes she can see reason; he wants you two to infiltrate the enclave and test his belief.”

“What, we’re talking her into standing down?” Xyrthe replied.

“Not quite. She’s currently unearthing an ancient heretic temple, believed to date back to the Marked Empire. We do not know her intentions in doing so; but Rymar is concerned that opening the temple would unleash an environmental cataclysm.”

“What kind of cataclysm?” Zaina leaned in, her interest piqued.

“Whatever danger the temple truly poses, its nature is not known,” Geli said. “It predates the Order and is fairly inaccessible, so we have little information on it; Rymar insisted it would release, in his words, ‘a sickness on the land itself.’ Upon doing our own research, we’ve found public speeches where Rymar’s son, Dirzo, professes his belief that Sivanya is unburying the temple to take control of an ancient superweapon used in the First Heretic War.”

Xyrthe shook her head. “I want to go on record that I’m not a fan of this one.”

“I can’t say infiltrating a heretic enclave is exactly on my bucket list,” Zaina said in agreement.

“Understandable on both counts. In the interest of full transparency, you should also be aware before accepting or declining the mission that Sivanya has a rather hostile relationship with lancers; if she discovers you two are not pure heretics, she would likely seek to terminate you. The Order has lost three lancers to this enclave, and from what I understand the Scions have lost more than ten to Sivanya alone.”

Xyrthe crossed her arms. “That’s a lot of risks.”

“Agreed,” Geli said, “and we are willing to do whatever we can to mitigate those risks. But we didn’t want you two going in blind, if you choose to go in at all.”

Zaina recognized her mentor’s expression—the furled brow, the pursed lip, the distant stare through squinted eyes—it was her thinking face.

“Yeesh,” Xyrthe replied. “You picked a real shitshow for us, didn’t you?”

“Unfortunately, the many shitshows across the galaxy are exactly where lancers are needed most,” Geli replied.

“Look.” Xyrthe rubbed the back of her head. “It’s been a brutal past few months. We’ve barely had any downtime. We need a break.” She sighed. “But it sounds like these people need our help.”

Zaina was too taken aback to answer. Most of the time she was the one talking Xyrthe into these kinds of missions, not the other way around.

Truth be told, Zaina was tired. She’d been going non-stop ever since the Eldritch came to her world and disrupted her pleasant life on the family farm. Still, her mentor was right—the people of Vyzria, both the denizens of Deonago and the Sivanya enclave, needed help, and help only Zaina and Xyrthe were capable of giving. Maybe a more neutral third party coming in would help both sides meet somewhere in the middle—or at least not kill each other.

“Okay,” Zaina said. “Okay, but after this one, I think we deserve a break.”

“Agreed,” Xyrthe said.

“It will be done,” Geli said, smiling. “Thank you two. I hope you can find a path forward that leads to peace.”

“I hope we leave in one piece,” Xyrthe grumbled, already back to her usual attitude.

Apparently not hearing Xyrthe’s comment, Geli pressed on. “The mission docket is being sent as we speak. Read it carefully on your route to Vyzria; I wish you both the best of luck. Please, keep us updated on the situation. And if you need anything—”

“Yeah, we know where to reach you,” Xyrthe said. She leaned forward and turned off the holo-comm, and the high scholar’s face dissolved out of sight. Then she leaned back, sighed, and turned to Zaina. “Well, that’s the job, kid.”